by Olivia Harp
He moved to the side right on the moment the fucker hit him, then stepped forward and grabbed his arm. Another step and a turn and he had him in a lock. The bastard screamed as Remy kept on pushing forward until his arm cracked, then slammed his head on the trunk of his car as hard as he could.
Mark crashed his back on the other side of the car, one of the fuckers tried to kick his gut but he moved away. Then another guy hit him in the eye.
"Mark!"
Trey kicked Remy on his lower back, pushing his body against the car, almost making him trip on the guy he just dropped.
"You wanna play, you fuck?"
That gave him enough time to swing at him, missing the first time, giving Trey enough confidence to think he was a good fighter, but not for long.
His left jab hit him square in the chin, spit coming out of his mouth like in a boxing match.
Trey staggered and fell on his ass.
Mark had knocked a guy out, but the other two bastards had him on the floor, beating him senseless.
Mark kept trying to fight, covering his head with one arm and the other trying to grab their legs each time they kicked.
Remy jumped at the nearest enemy and pushed him hard against his friend, making him trip and fall down, throwing the other one out of balance long enough for him to stand between them and Mark.
"You okay, bro?"
Mark replied with a groan, pain still coursing through his body. But he was still conscious, trying to get up.
The man is an beast.
Three on one. Not good odds, either. His whole body hurt. He wasn't sure what was going to happen after this, but he sure as hell wasn't going down without them knowing who they were messing with.
Mark slid forward and grabbed one guy’s leg. Remy didn't even think about it, he just swung at him and connected so perfectly he could have given his buddy a medal.
The guy next to him stepped back but the third one hit Remy on the ear.
Between all the pain and dust, Remy could not see well, and now this. Now he was throwing punches in the air, not able to hear anything but a horrible ringing in his ear.
He felt the warmth of his own blood fall down his nose and the side of an eyebrow.
Nothing felt broken, at least.
He was out of breath. Someone kicked him in the stomach. He didn't even register who.
The ringing began to dwindle, he was on the ground now. More kicks. Were they going to kill them?
They stopped. He swallowed and realized there weren't any dental pieces loose in his mouth. He was thankful for that.
"Motherfuckers! I'll kill you!"
Remy looked up and saw Trey take out a gun out of his belt.
"Fuck you," he coughed, and Mark, laying beside him, laughed.
"Yeah, fuck you, bitch," he said.
"You think I won't?" Trey said, offended.
"Shoot us if you're going to," Remy said, "stop talking about it."
He stared at him square in the eye. He only saw fear in them. He had a big mouth, but was really a coward underneath.
"Five on two, man," Mark said, coughing, "we almost did it."
Too bad. This had been a nice night. Meeting that girl back there was fucking awesome.
Who knows, if things were different, maybe he could have gone out with her, get to know her…
Shit. You didn't just want to fuck her, did you?
The moment he saw her, the first thing that went through his head was taking care of her, making her happy.
It was stupid, of course, but it didn't matter anyway. Not anymore. At least he got to meet her.
"We almost did," he said.
Trey raised his gun, Remy kept staring at him.
"No!" A girl yelled a few dozen feet away.
You could almost see fear running through Trey's veins.
His posture completely changed, looking to the side.
Her voice. He could recognize it anywhere. His angel was here and she had saved him. Wasn't this supposed to be the other way around? Wasn't he, the man, the one who was supposed to rescue her, slay the dragon and take her to his castle?
Maybe in another story.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Trey?" She spat.
He knew right there that she was more dangerous than he realized… and couldn't stop a smile from adorning his face.
"These fuckers attacked us!" Trey replied, "look at what they did to Tommy!"
He pointed down to the unconscious guy with a broken arm.
"They weren't even invited!"
"And you're going to kill them?" She said, standing in front of Remy. Mark began to sit up.
Trey moved forward, "you stay down you asshole!"
She moved to protect Mark.
"We just want to leave," said Remy.
Everyone turned to him.
"Oh, you're not leaving, you fuck," Trey said, raising his gun to him for a second time.
Julie stood before it. Trying to protect him. No one had ever done anything like that for him. This girl was risking her life for a person she shared a few words with just a few minutes ago.
"Get the fuck out of here before I call security," she told Trey.
"Julie, you don't even know who these people are!"
"I'm not going to say it again. Get. The fuck. Out. Of my sight. Do you want me to call my father?"
Trey pressed his lips until they were almost white.
"I don't want to see you again," he told Remy, then signaled his friends to pick up Tommy.
"I'm sorry Julie. But you need to be more careful, you have enemies everywhere—"
"I don't need you to take care of me."
"I'll make it up to you—"
"Dad!" She yelled and Trey stepped forward, his hands trying to put her at ease.
"We're leaving, we're leaving, I'm sorry dear, I'm sorry…"
She waited, watching them walk away through the cars and into the dark garden. They weren't going to go back to the party, that was for sure.
Julie turned, her eyes going from anger to worry in an instant.
"Are you okay?"
A shiver ran down his body, from head to toe.
"Never been better."
She took a few wipes from her purse and tried to clean his face.
The warmth of her skin on his own was like a gift from Heaven. If this was the reward, then the fight had been worth it.
"My gosh, they got you good."
"I'll be fine," he said, trying to avert his gaze so he wouldn’t get lost in her eyes again, but he failed.
"I wanna go home," said Mark, beside them, his face full of bruises, "I have to go to church tomorrow morning."
She and Remy shared a laugh. Then everything was silent.
They needed to leave, before someone else came and started asking questions.
"I'll drive you," Julie said.
Chapter 8
Julie
"No," he said, "but thank—"
"Shut up, I wasn't asking."
Men. Always trying to act tough.
"You're in no condition to drive."
And they sure weren't. They didn't need her at the party any more, and this was much more important. She could talk to anyone who wanted to do business later, nothing was lost.
She drove all the way back to the city. Both guys were respectful, and in an improbable good mood.
"Make a right here," Mark said. He laid on the back seat, holding a wipe on his forehead.
"That's the building, in front of the black sedan."
She saw it. A tall, old building, probably ten floors. It was on a good part of town, though, probably one of those hipster places that were more expensive than they were worth.
"Guys, please, just let me take you to the hospital—"
"No," they said in unison.
"We're good," Remy said.
"If we thought we weren't, we'd take your offer."
"But what if you're dead tomorrow, you know, because of a co
ntusion or whatever?"
"Then I'm an idiot," Mark said as she stopped the car, "but I'm pretty sure I'm not. Not even a broken bone. Strength!"
He said that last word like a war cry and left. Remy laughed, she couldn't do it, she was genuinely worried.
The man by her side, on the other hand, was quiet, looking ahead, talking as little as possible.
"Are you okay?"
He turned to face her, "sure, why?"
"You're awfully quiet."
He held a bunch of wipes on his eyebrow, they were soaked in blood.
"Thank you," he said, "you saved my life."
He looked at her with an intensity she hadn't seen in anyone before.
"He wasn't going to kill you," she said, "he's not that stupid."
"He's done it before?"
"What?"
"Threaten to kill somebody in front of you."
Her stomach tightened. She realized she was saying more than she should.
"Not with a gun out, no."
"You're used to seeing that? Guns, I mean."
She turned to see him, this man was way too inquisitive.
"You haven't told me where do you live."
"Just take the Kennedy Expressway, I'll tell you where to exit."
They drove in silence for ten minutes. They felt like an eternity.
"Are you feeling okay?" She asked.
"Yes. I think I just have to stitch my wound, it doesn't stop bleeding."
She gasped, every hair in her body raised, cold fear ran through her veins.
"I'm heading to the hospital."
"No."
"Yes," she said, pressing the accelerator, "this is serious, Remy."
The road was practically deserted at this hour, thankfully.
"I can do it on my own, don't worry."
"I'm not going to let you do that! Are you insane?"
"It'll take me a minute or two, it's easy."
She held his hand, it was much bigger than hers, rough and warm. His pulse wasn't agitated and he didn't move away.
She felt tears welling up in her eyes, but she held them back.
"I'm sorry," she said, trying to keep her voice from breaking, "I should have known what was going to happen. It's my fault."
He turned his hand and held her, entwining his fingers with hers.
She kept her eyes on the road, but she was sure Remy was looking at her.
"It's not your fault. You can't control other people. What he did, he did on his own."
"But I left him at the party. I should have known he was going to get jealous."
"Jealous?"
He stared at her.
"He's not your boyfriend, right?"
Julie took a deep breath and swallowed.
"No. Of course not."
"Then, what do you mean?"
"He's my ex."
"Oh."
A pregnant silence filled the cabin. He didn't say anything else.
"From long ago. I was fifteen. He's always been like that with me."
"And how do you feel about it?"
She looked at him, "you mean—"
"Do you still have feelings for him?"
"Christ, no. He's sick. He's a friend of the family, works for my dad, just like his father before him."
"Have you told him—"
"Yes, Remy. He knows I don't give two shits about him. But as you said, I can't control other people."
"He's dangerous."
"Don't worry, he's all talk."
"Not tonight it wasn't."
He was right. Tonight, Trey crossed a line. She couldn't give him the benefit of the doubt. She had to talk to her father about it. He needed to be disciplined harshly, before his behavior became a problem.
Anger flared inside of her. He never acted like this. Maybe he saw something in Remy she didn't.
He saw your reaction towards him.
She took the exit to the William Jackson General Hospital.
"No, where are we—"
"We're going to the hospital, tough guy," she said, "and I'm not taking a no for an answer."
He smiled.
"As you wish, princess," he said, bringing his hand over hers again.
She didn't know why, but she didn't take hers away.
He's not well, that's it.
Yeah, sure. That was it.
She didn't really believe that.
Chapter 9
Remy
It had been years since he was at the hospital.
The clean, quietness of the building actually made him feel better.
He'd stitched his own wounds once or twice in the past, but he wasn't eager to do it again.
Besides, what's the harm? It made her happy, and that's all he needed to know.
He came out of the emergency room with a small gauze over his right eyebrow. She sat on a chair just outside the room.
"Did the doctor ask what happened to you?"
"Yes."
"What did you tell him?"
"I fell."
She smiled, "you fell."
"Did anyone ask you?" Remy asked.
"Yeah. You were in a fight, but apparently you're the one who has to press charges."
He shrugged. He had a fat lip and bruises all over his body. He couldn't walk straight without everyone noticing how much he was hurting.
After the adrenaline faded, pain began to flare up everywhere.
"I thought you'd be gone by the time I came out."
She opened her mouth in surprise, almost offended.
"Are you serious?"
"I mean, you have a party going on and all…"
"Really? You want me to go to the party?"
He walked to her, he would have hugged her but he wasn't sure how she would react.
"Let's go pay—"
"I already did."
He stared at her.
"You what?"
"Don't worry, you'll pay me later."
"Hey, that's not fair."
She put her hands on her waist, defiantly.
"What's not fair?"
"Getting in debt with a mob princess."
She opened her eyes so widely he thought they were going to fall out.
"Don't worry, I won't tell."
She didn't say anything.
"Come," he said, and took her hand. She was hesitant at first but went along with him.
The automatic doors opened, the walk back to the car was awkward. She felt so different. As if she wanted to say something, then something else, then thought about it and kept quiet.
They hopped in the cabin and drove away.
"It was a joke, you know," he said, after a while.
She kept focusing on the road.
"But we can’t pretend otherwise. Your father really is a mob boss."
"Don't say that."
"Thank you, by the way."
She took a glimpse at him, wondering what he meant.
"For saving us, I mean."
She suppressed a smile. It was brief but he noticed it.
"So when will I see you again?"
"Never."
He rolled his eyes.
"You really want me to beg?"
"No."
"Because I won't."
He lied. He would crawl and fight and kill for her if he had to. His fate was sealed. God fucking damn it.
He'd find a way to make this work. But first things first.
"Tomorrow?"
She turned the volume up. Happy pop music.
"What about the day after?"
"I said never."
They were getting closer to his apartment, just another two blocks. He didn't have much time left. And you fucked up badly you dumbass.
"I need to see you again, I think," he said.
"You think?" She asked, incredulous. Fuck. He was digging his own grave.
"Yeah. Who will come to save me next time I'm in a fight?"
She pulled over to the side of the road.
&nb
sp; "Listen, Remy Morgan," she said, her voice pure seriousness, like the principal at his old grade school when he got in trouble for something, "I like you, but this isn't working. And the fact that you apparently get into fights regularly is not helping at all."
His heart beat harder and harder in his chest.
"I didn't mean it like that."
"Then what—"
"I didn't pick that fight, and I tried to walk away from it as hard as I could."
"Not hard enough."
"I defended myself."
"Are you sure of that? Because you seem to like fighting a bit too much, too."
His hand went to her knee, "I swear I'm telling the truth."
Their eyes locked. He couldn't lose her like this. He was stupid and brash, but not seeing her again because of his big mouth was a wake-up call. This was real.
She bit her lower lip and took a deep breath.
"All right."
***
"This is me," he said. She still hadn't given him her number. I fucked up.
He extended his hand to her, she looked at it, then at him.
"Thank you."
She shook it.
"No problem, stranger."
He took a business card out from his wallet.
"That's my personal number, right there. Call me or text me if you ever get over what I said back at the hospital."
She pressed her lips and took it.
"I'm not good at begging. And I already begged you enough for today," he said, "have a good night."
He walked out the car.
Her attitude was a problem, she was too used to being chased. She was something else all right, but she was too spoiled. She needed to be taught a lesson.
"You can park the car right there on the curve," he said, taking the keys to his apartment out.
She hadn't driven away yet.
"And why would I do that?" She asked.
He turned around, tired of her little attitude.
"Well, you don't want us to meet, ever again. But tonight's already ruined, so you might as well come up for tea. I'd offer you coffee but I don't want to stay awake all night, and you haven't sweet-talked me enough to get me to bed."
Her jaw fell open, he could tell no one had ever talked to her like that.
"You're an ass!"
He turned to the door and pointed to the curve, "parking's right there!"